A Sob Story
by ViciousSnails
Summary: A student is missing and Snape is determined to return her safely to Hogwarts. Worlds collide when he discovers some kinky truths about the muggle world. A self-indulgence story. A sob story. Angst.


Harry Potter and related characters belong to JK Rowling, and I am just a sick kidnapper doing terrible things to her creations.

**A/N:** So, this is a sob story. In other words, I've finally done it. I have finally succumbed to the urge to create some morbid tortured soul fest disguised as a story. I just had to create an account completely unrelated to my other account in order to allow this stupid indulgence, and then hide my face in shame. Will this be an angsty sad hurt/comfort thing? Probably a bit. Will the updates be reliable? At times. And will any one want to read this? I don't know. But I am doing this, I am letting this cat out of it's burlap death-bag and letting it loose. I am writing a story with a female character who is myself, but fantasized to be much deeper and more complex and badass then I am. A female character who is put through the ringer but still with it and hip, or something, or pathetic. She might end up being as useless as Bella is all I'm saying, and you can hate every thing about it if you want. Feel free to hate everything about this if you want, because that's why I put this story far away from the ones I've actually invested a feeling of self worth into. I might just kill off all the main characters if I begin to dislike this story too much. I don't know.

Read and possibly enjoy!

Humanity is sick. He had known this for as long as he could remember. Certainly not every person was guilty of the kind of perversion he knew was possible, yet it was always there, the dirty underbelly to a white mutt.

Perhaps the way he lived was partly to blame for his sincere belief in the depravity in man. After all, a person can only spend so much time in the dredges before becoming submerged in its foulness. Yet, as deep as he always found himself, he knew he descended in a bubble, with only the occasional leaks and seepage to dirty his shoes. Still, it was suffocating, finding himself surrounded by the filthy run off of society, with only so much clean air to sustain him.

A thing that always brought him sadness was witnessing some level of this descent in one of his students. And they were almost always his students. His house seemed to go rancid much more easily than all the others. He always assumed it was often caused by the festering wounds left by the scum they called parents. Young minds scabbing over with all the filth rubbed in still there.

Compared with the madness he saw often as a spy, however, he viewed the school as a sort of sanctuary. Things didn't go as bad as possible very often, and generally, when they did, it was the result of some invading outside force. They were children, after all. Only a few years removed from security blankets and an affinity for puppies, their little minds were only capable of so much. Of course there were always exceptions, but fortunately those were few and far between.

In a strange way, he slightly envied his muggle born students. Not while they were at the school; being muggle born afforded them no comfort. Yet, during their brief holidays at home they managed to escape the pure-blood mania he saw with increasing frequency. The muggle world was a sort of refuge, with no magic, relatively saner legal processes, a mostly functioning government, CCTV, law enforcement devoted to both the mundane and the serious. It was, as far as he was concerned, much cleaner and brighter with its electric lights and everyday dullness. They had international forces devoted to preventing the rise of another Hitler, to interfere with genocide, and a media network beyond the petty interference of the local government. What wizard readily jumped onto a computer and searched the internet if they knew they weren't being told the truth?

Yes, the muggle world, even with its own depravity was a much safer place, he often told himself.

He used to tell himself.

Snape was livid. A student was missing, without cause or notice, and no one had thought to tell him. Not his students, not his _fellow _professors, no one. Of course he hadn't noticed this during the welcoming feast; he seldom paid much attention the third years and up, concerning himself instead with new students and known trouble makers.

After a search of the castle and a brief talk with a house-elf, he had determined her to be nowhere in the castle and her things never to have been found on the train. The sixth year girls were in grave trouble.

Determining that nothing more could be done himself, he took off for Dumbledore's office, hoping and not hoping answers could be found there. He had more than enough to worry him with keeping an eye on the misguided Draco Malfoy and his normal teaching duties to perform a manhunt on his own.

Shrouded in his own anger and annoyance, he hardly noticed McGonagold advancing on him in the corridor until he nearly ran her down.

"Severus, I've been looking for you."

"Have you?" He responded dryly, eager to be gone and none too pleased with his peers.

"Yes, about Miss Sonnoma. She wasn't in class today, which, for her, is most peculiar, and none of her class mates seemed to know where she was or if she was even in the school. Do you know what this is about, Severus?" She looked genuinely concerned, and this helped to stymie his anger.

"No, I do not. Thank you, Minerva. I'm attempting to find that out for myself." He did feel grateful that at least one professor had the decency to worry about his students, especially one from a rivaling house.

A few moments later found him in the headmaster's office, refusing sweets and ignoring offered tea. Fixing Dumbledore with a pointed look, he waited until the man was ready to listen.

"I know this look, Severus. Tell me, what is it? Have you found some trap or plot formed by Draco?"

Ignoring the question, Snape leaned forward, "Do you know, Headmaster? Do you know that a student is missing from the castle? Did you have any idea?" He asked with no little amount of stinging sarcasm.

Dumbledore's face fell. "No, I'm afraid I had no idea. I'll assume this is a student from your house? Who is it?"

"Delilah Sonoma."

Sitting back, Dumbledore sighed, obviously displeased. "Delilah," He muttered, "I see. Do you have an idea where she could be?"

"No. No, I do not have the faintest idea. I've written to that institution listed as her home, but to my knowledge they pay little attention to their wards once they have someone else to pass them on to." Snape shrugged his shoulders with some irritation, uncomfortable with the fact that Hogwarts—and he, himself—paid little attention to their students when they left the castle walls as well. Except, perhaps, for Potter.

"You mean the orphanage?" Asked Dumbledore sharply. His tone was intimidating, and Snape was taken aback by it.

"You know very well there are no orphanages left in England. There's group homes, children's homes, foster care. Nothing so barbaric as a good old fashioned orphanage." He couldn't help retaliating defensively, dismayed with the strange hostility he felt from Dumbledore.

"Yes, well, I suppose that's true. Now, provided you do not hear from her soon, what do you believe the best course of action to take is?" As quickly as it had appeared, the harshness had left the headmaster, his expression only one of concern.

Not impressed with the act, Snape considered the man for a moment, wondering if any other student would receive the same strange indifference to their potential disappearance.

"Well, for all I know, she may well have been murdered over the summer and I failed to notice between my duties to the order and my social calls to the Dark Lord. Or she may have simply missed the train. I suppose calling on her last known residence would be a prudent measure, which I have already taken, as well as questioning her friends on what they may know, not that I believe she has many… perhaps, if we have no luck, we might put out a notice to the muggle hospitals and St. Mungo's to alert us if a girl with her name or description comes into their care. Do you have any other ideas, sir?" Without waiting for a reply, Snape sneered,

"Oh yes, and lest we forget, contact the muggle authorities. Being a Slytherin, she may well have ended up in jail."

"Yes, we will do that." Agreed Dumbledore silently. Furious at his attitude, Snape stood and left the office, not bothering to wait for suggestions. Though he was grateful to Dumbledore for many things, his odd moods and mysterious ways bothered him, especially when they caused him to behave as he had that night. Sure, he understood—and agreed with—Dumbledore's concerns about Draco, but this odd discrimination against his innocent students was more than irksome. Slytherin wasn't the only house to produce bad apples; Pettigrew was a most recent and foul example of that, yet he always felt his students were judged to a different standard, whether deserved or not.

A month of classes, melted cauldrons, unsuccessful murder attempts, and dullness passed. Mundane routine dictated that Snape found himself grading the same disappointing essays he graded twice a month by the same disappointing students who wrote the last disappointing essays. He felt it very safe to say that he was a disappointed man. Perhaps other bachelors his age engaged in much more exciting activities on a Friday night, but considering that his occasionally 'exciting' weekends included being intimidated by the world's most feared wizard, he contented himself with keeping the company of poorly written coursework.

Halfway through generously applying red ink to parchment, a shadow fell across the doorway. Expecting the shadow to belong to an unwise first-year wishing to interrupt him with some trivial matter, he marking the essay in front of him before looking at the intruder. To his surprise, Dumbledore stood patiently in the entrance, waiting for his attention.

"To what do I owe the honor? So rarely do you come to visit me here in the esteemed dungeons." He asked dryly. In truth he was curious, for it was a rare occurrence Dumbledore came to call on him in his own office, so the reason must have been serious.

"I thought you wouldn't want to wait to hear this, Severus. They've located Delilah."

"Where?"

"In a London hospital. From what I've gathered she isn't in serious condition, and can be discharged to a guardian as soon as one arrives to collect her. I assumed you would want to handle this, but if you are busy, I would be more than happy to." Dumbledore eyes rested on the pile of ungraded papers. "I'm not wrong in thinking you would rather attend to this personally?"

Dropping his quill, Snape stood and began gathering a few small things from around his office.

"No, you're not wrong."

**A/N : **There. That's the first chapter. I went with Delilah because I like the name on paper, and I thought Lilith was a little too stupid because it's kind of... I don't know... I think people who tend to believe they're much cooler and darker than they really are love using the name Lilith in their stories, and I find those people annoying. I'm finding the name Delilah slightly annoying, but not that annoying. Lilith really is such a pretty name. But I can't help but remember all those perpetually lethargic (tortured) goth kids from middle school when I try using Lilith as a name. I went with Sonoma because I cheated. It's 'nameless' in Esperanto with an 'n' missing, because I'm lazy and google translate is a thing.


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